


the sun shining on you

by zombiesolace



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Car Chases, F/F, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesolace/pseuds/zombiesolace
Summary: Camilla Collins lives a sedate life as a inventor and researcher of all things superpowered. Five years out of university and she's finally making use of the degree she undertook. She's found professional success like she never dreamed, but all of that's about to come crashing down. When a UFO sighting leads to an unexpected encounter with an old flame and an ex-lover, Camilla finds herself enticed by desires she's never felt before.Surely...surely she isn't interested in pursuing a mature, adult relationship???(disclaimer: this is,, this is crack taken seriously i'm afraid. in case you /couldn't/ tell from the excessive use of gravitas lmao)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from Billy Ocean's gET OUTTA MY DREAMS, GET INTO MY CAR (GET IN THE BACKSEAT BABY) OH I SAID HEY (HEY) YOU (YOU) GET IN TO MY HEY (HEY) YOU (YOU) GET INTO MY CAR
> 
> you should go listen to the song right now, not bc it's relevant in any sense of the word, but bc it's a fucking classic

There’s this assumption among Camilla’s close friends and family that she can read minds. It's an assumption she regrets, but the truth is far, far _worse_. Camilla would be ecstatic if she could read minds. She’s got a mind of her own, she knows the shit that runs wild on repeat. That would be bearable; mildly amusing, even.

She can’t read minds though, not really. It's more of a visual affair like a first person shooter except there’s no way to quit the game. Her streaming powers are faultless. If someone is remembering a scene, Camilla is ever so kindly bestowed a front row seat.

And while there are plenty of instances, in life, where shit goes down and Camilla wants to shout _what were you thinking?!_ She generally already knows.

What she wants her dwindling friends and family to realise: is that she couldn’t care less. She really, truly couldn’t.

So when Camilla finds Jack Zimmermann tied to a tree she doesn’t take the gag from his mouth. She leaves it there, smiles as warmly as she can and shields like a motherfucker.

“Hey,” she whispers furtively. “I just need to go check this shit out and then I’ll come back for you okay, buddy?” She pats his defined chest, ignoring the eye contact he’s valiantly trying to make and the caged way he wiggles. Why is her college fling at the sight of some suss and secretive UFO landing? Camilla doesn’t give a shit.

She ignores the guilt and sweet way her hand involuntarily lingers. The area looks deserted otherwise. It clearly isn’t due to Jack’s predicament but under the sweeping arcs of Camilla’s flashlight she sees nothing but foliage. She’s rather glad Jack went and got himself caught, she’d be none the wiser to any danger if not. Other than the enormous spaceship that came to land on the other side of the valley of course.

Still it stumps her that there even is any danger. She’d been tracking flight paths over this area to see how often pilots adjust their course unscheduled. A small sample size was all she wanted and it was pure luck she picked this area. She’d noticed quickly that planes—drones and _birds_ also—dodged this area by a 150 foot radius. The area itself was on the outskirts of a national park, stomping ground to a rare species of swallow. She’d set up a load of cameras somewhat illegally and what did she know?

For once: fuck all. As long as no one else knew a thing, she wouldn’t either.

Her research had recorded an unidentified flying object coming to land here once a week for the past month. She’d been a bit slack on checking the cameras, hence the amount of data, but this was all an extension off of research for some of her clients. They’d been fussy recently so she hadn’t been in a hurry to do their bidding.

She steps relatively quietly through the underbrush, her body half crouched. There’s little to hear beyond the wind and insects, the rustling leaves and soft chirruping of a sweet melody. There’s no sign of people anywhere and no movement from the UFO. That’s par for the course but...she’s starting to get anxious about her starkly obvious torchlight and bright white runners when she hears a branch crack. Camilla chucks the torch haphazardly and darts between an outcrop of rocks. The stone is jagged and cold, roughly grabbing for attention through her jeans and jacket. She just about bites through her lip at the scare.

Camilla can make out an obscure figure standing in the open. She’s not well hidden herself but the moonlight would shine directly on the person if not for the canopy above. They stalk slowly through the trees, truly silent where Camilla was a poor imitation. She sees - through the hooks of clawing branches - the person has their hands raised menacingly. Camilla swallows and the fear she held off at the sight of Jack comes shuddering down her wobbly spine full force. They may well be armed, but they also decided to apprehend Jack rather than hurting him. If she plays it safe she should remain that way.

The figure continues to walk directly towards Camilla’s hiding spot and she has no doubt they know she's here. The torchlight lays across the person’s path and they step through it easily. Camilla hesitates at the sight…because those are ballet flats. It's probably foolish of her but she relaxes minutely. They’re hardly shoes to do dirty business in.

She so busy staring at the shoes she misses the moment they come in sight of one another.

“...Camilla?”

She doesn’t catch the person’s face but she remembers this drawling voice and her mind leaps at the opportunity.

She sees—herself.

_Camilla sees herself from two years back. Her hair in a messy crown around her head, her body tucked into a shirt with flowing bell sleeves. She leads the way through crowds of people and tempting stalls. Her hand is inches from Larissa’s yet she doesn’t feel as though she knows Camilla well enough to reach out. The dissonance is mutual: she’s smiling._

Camilla can feel herself smiling now. Like double vision, in the memory she smiles: involuntary, the past is set in stone; and now: involuntary, it's—it’s a good memory.

She rips herself free before they lean into one another, before the scene moves along like rapid turning book pages. Camilla _really_ _doesn't want to know_.

“Larissa Duan,” she sighs, her eyes closing momentarily. It's one part resistance and two parts relief. Why is her summer fling at the site of a fucking UFO landing? Camilla doesn’t give a shit.

“Holy fuck did I ever think I was about to be murdered,” she says, going for a smooth recovery even as she inelegantly struggles free of the rock crevice.

Larissa stands before her, eyes steady and head tilted. She’s dressed in comfortable black clothing and there's a taser at her waist. It suddenly strikes Camilla that last she’d heard Larissa had joined some crime-loving supervillain sect. That hadn’t been a great day; she’d emptied two bottles of cheap bordeaux down her gullet and thrown it all back up before sunset.

“Oh shit,” Camilla says, softly, “Am I in trouble?”

“You’re always in trouble,” Larissa says with a snort. She crosses her arms, her hip cocking and it is so so achingly familiar.

“Are _you_ gonna give me any trouble?” Camilla asks: nervous, alight, uncertain. She steps in closer to Larissa almost involuntarily and it's hard to see any detail in the dark but she tilts her chin up to look at Camilla and _oh._ That puts something soft and fond in her belly.

“Depends on why you're here,” Larissa says, gesturing they walk. Camilla’s so turned around she’s not sure if its towards the UFO or not. “I’ve already caught one person tonight I’m going to have to deal with.”

Deal with...hmmm. The phrase unbalances Camilla slightly until she remembers that she knows Larissa. She knows an honest woman, a kind heart, a focused mind. She knows what Larissa strives for in life, supervillain or no.

Also, the only experience she has with the phrase ‘deal with them’ is in movies and fiction which is so realistic after all.

“Yeaah, Jackie-boy in the tree hugging bondage,” Camilla says. Larissa shoots her a look but Camilla can't read it with the shadows on her face. “We went to college together. Can we go to him? He’ll be worried.”

Larissa steers them off to their left and honestly Camilla is so disorientated, she has no recollection of coming from that way. She didn't even pick up her flashlight for fucks sake. “You came together?” Larissa asks.

“No actually,” she laughs. “I haven't seen him in years. Not a clue why he's here. Do you know?”

Larissa shakes her head. “No specifically.”

“You could guess?” Camilla says with a sly cut of her eyes.

Larissa doesn’t respond which is confirmation enough.

Jack is handily tied up under a bright shaft of moonlight in a small clearing. His eyes flick rapidly between Camilla and Larissa, his body tensing.

“It's all good hey,” Camilla says soothingly. “We’re old friends.”

His brow furrows and he looks even more like a sad puppy all tied up and waiting to be freed.

Larissa pulls the gag from his mouth and drops it on the ground. She wipes her fingers clean on her leggings and sends Camilla a self-deprecating grimace.

“Camilla,” Jack says gravely, heart-squeezingly sympathetic. _They’re at graduation giving stilted goodbyes. There’s been no fucking in years, no friendship for far longer. Maybe they weren’t ever friends, both so self-absorbed and unconcerned by the fact. Camilla’s graduation cap keeps slipping down her forehead and Jack alternately wants to gently fix it into place and tug the cap fondly into her eyes._

It takes her a moment to escape, the pause disguised by the bizarre situation. Jack’s hesitation gives her pause. He so often looked grave before he felt comfortable in a given situation. She can hardly expect him to be comfortable with rope biting into his torso but it still twinges a little. The good vs evil lines are rather blurred right now. Camilla works for a NGO corporation fueled wholly by super power advancements, Larissa is a fugitive. Not to say there’s a single part of her that doubts Larissa’s morality.

Jack doesn’t continue his train of thought he switches tracks, aimed and focused. His eyes fall on Larissa, deep and piercing. “Are you going to talk to me now?”

Ooh and if that doesn’t sound tetchy. Camilla kinda loves when Jack defends himself.

Larissa shrugs in response and then again at Camilla’s curious look. An awkward pause follows where Jack and Larissa seem to be alternately figuring out the right words and hoping someone else will say them first.

Good lord she has a _type_.

Camilla shakes that off quickly. It's really not the time for nostalgia or reminiscing no matter that her powers seem to think its _always_ the time. She claps her hands decisively and cheerily asks: “Alright, El, what have we stumbled across?”

Larissa tilts her chin up, her eyebrows raised as she looks away. “I’m here to pick up a package.”

Her eyes flick to Camilla and she sees herself again. _Dropping her voice comically low as she dramatically sneaks into Larissa’s ratty apartment, “You got the goods?” The room cloudy with smoke and the sweet smell of weed drifting between their parting mouths._

Larissa’s mouth quirks minutely in real time and Camilla nudges her to go on. It really is the best way to get Larissa talking but maybe she’s also looking for an excuse to touch her.

“The show stoppers are using this point to transport certain goods. I’ve been put on to head the task.” Despite the context Larissa’s voice stays even.

“You mean supervillains,” Jack says, shuffling his shoulders, his eyes on the rope. He doesn’t look too rattled but then he always was one to fall apart later in private. “That sounds surprisingly business-y for such chaotic criminals.”

Larissa’s mouth twists. “Shit needs doing, they need finesse to pull off the more intricate crimes.”

They. _They,_ she says. Camilla thinks Jack catches it too.

Larissa’s a bright spark, her word choice deliberate. She flashes her teeth slightly, bright white between pink lips. “I’m undercover.”

Camilla sees flashes of people she’s only seen mugshots of on TV after horrific tragedies. Larissa’s mind is remembering in much more detail but Camilla holds off. She’ll take Larissa at her word.

Jack funnily enough immediately embraces the blurred morality of this situation. Maybe he’s lightened up since she last saw him, some colour at last seeping into that black and white world of his. “Should you be telling us this?”

He sounds so concerned it makes Camilla smile. Larissa seems surprised at his sudden empathy, her face truly blanking compared to the bland poker face she’s been holding.

She pulls a knife from a sheith hidden at her ankle and cuts Jack free, her hands moving in comfortable and practiced motions. Jack stretches his arms and shoulders out, nodding once in thanks - ever so polite. Larissa points to his chest, “Sorry for the excessive force, bro.”

Jack shrugs, rubbing his sternum with a light touch. “You were doing your job.” He steps away from the tree with an easy push and ends up close to Camilla. He clears his throat sweetly and says, “Hi.”

Camilla can't help her grin. Mr. Darcy eat your heart out, Jack Zimmerman takes awkward charm to a whole new level. “Sorry for not being your hero,” she says, “I didn't need the complication.”

Jack pulls a face and spreads his hands out before him, “And I always cause such a fuss I know. I apologise.”

Camilla throws her fist into his shoulder and laughs. They have the same smirk on their faces—bared in the teeth and self-satisfied like an inside joke.

It doesn’t undo the look on his face before he spoke. He might be giving back the humour as good as she’s dolling out, but something about her actions, her choice, gave him pause.

Camilla can’t help but glance at Larissa. There’s something considering in her eyes, something like recognition. It makes Camilla’s stomach swoop. She’s acting too blasé about this she knows. Larissa knows this facade of hers. They were a summer fling, carefree to the point of recklessness. This situation doesn’t warrant any such behaviour.

“You’re gonna blow my investigation,” Larissa says, her voice flat, “so ah-buh-bye-now.” Her eyes are scanning the forest line around them. Sure, for security’s sake, but it makes for a nice excuse not to give eye contact.

Jack grimaces, shuffling his weight. “I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“Are you undercover too?” Larissa asks with raised brows.

“No,” Jack says, “but I am investigating. There’s an endangered species of bird endemic to this area and their population has been declining. We started counting daily and sightings drop every Wednesday so I’m here to see why.”

“Oh same,” Camilla says. The dates match and they don’t need to know who she works for even if it is wholly unrelated. She’s signed many a nondisclosure agreement since joining the lab. The work they do is fundamentally experimental, which leaves room for both advancements and aberration. It's unlikely to be the latter but the organisation is known for its super-curious leanings. Jack and Larissa will ask if she’s super, it's a logical leap - she’s more useful super. She’s not sure how they’d react to her specific powers or even the simple, unelaborated upon concept. The thought makes her heart race, she feels it pounding in her feet like a call to chase, to flee.

That she’s here for the birds is legit. She’d attended rallies with both of them for this-cause and that-cause over the years. It's both believable _and_ something she will have no trouble being passionate about. The swallows had looked cool as fuck when she was doing her research.

Larissa rolls her eyes. They did make their campaign sound pretty half-hearted there. Jack the nosy birdwatcher and Camilla’s copycat attitude. “Why else would I bother to infiltrate a megalomania driven conglomerate of supervillains?”

Something like pride glows warm inside Camilla’s chest. Concern follows without hesitation: that’s quite the crusade to suddenly take up, particularly over birds.

Jack opens his mouth way before any words come out. “You know they kill people?”

“Are you—are you concerned for my well being or criticising my reasons?” Larissa says looking around like she’s not sure who he’s speaking to. Its exaggerated to seem put on, but Camilla knows well enough there's honest confusion beneath the surface.

“Umm,” Jack says, “both?”

“I’m one person,” she says plainly. “I’ll leave the big fish to the government and protect the little birdies in my local area from being trafficked. You’re hardly doing any different. Plus I want to go to art school and this shit pays a fucking _mint_.”

Camilla laughs at that. “Who knew opportunists were more likely to endanger themselves on a whim? And I doubt either of us suspected super villains were at play here.” She’d thought government conspiracy when she first saw the uncharted area sure. There must be good money in rare animal trafficking for fugitives to find a way to deter flight paths from radar to avian intuition. Larissa might know.

“They’re always at play,” Larissa says, voice sober. She speaks them into fruition: there is a sudden thundering of footsteps and someone body slams her into the tree.

Camilla and Jack smash into one another as they attempt to run in different directions. She shoves him aside and drops down next to Larissa’s sprawled body. There’s blood gushing from her nose and a gash in her forehead. Her eyes roll unnaturally and Camilla pulls her close protectively. She needs to get them out of here but there’s no way that’s safe. A pained grunt catches her attention and her head whips around wildly. She’ll murder this villain if Jack gets hurt.

She can’t make them out at first, hidden between the dense trees, but they stumble into an open space momentarily. There’s a bright light flying towards Jack and it takes Camilla a second to realise its a column of rippling water reflecting the moonlight. Larissa was quite literal about the villains being super then. Jack doesn’t pause, he ducks and rolls _towards_ the villain and tackles them around the thighs. What the _fuck?_ Camilla starts, her body instinctively moving to assist. He’s so far outclassed, he’s in _danger_.

They go down heavily and Jack lets out a sudden growl. It's a deep, inhuman noise that has Camilla’s hair standing on end. It shocks her into hesitating.

Jack wrenches the villain into the air, hoisting them effortlessly above his head before chucking them bodily at a tree. They hit the sturdy wood with a deafening smack and clatter limply to the ground. Jack stalks closer and—takes their pulse? Oh for fucks sake Jack’s _fine_ ; show of force or no, he’s still soft at heart.

She stops monitoring and turns her attention back to her other concern. Larissa is pawing at Camilla’s shirt, like right over her breast, which seems to give her pause.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” she says blearily.

“Free the tiddie,” Camilla says habitually, pulling some only slightly snotty tissues from her pocket and pressing them to Larissa’s head wound. “I’m twenty seven and lazy to keep putting one on everyday.”

“Hard same,” Larissa says, trying to sit up. “Where’s your buddy?”

“Here,” Jack says stumbling over. “Excuse me. I’m sorry. I stopped the guy, he’s down.” He’s prodding gingerly at his jaw and there’s a gushing tear in his sleeve. He drops to his knees beside Camilla, wiping his blood over her jacket as their arms brush. It's got both their grotty blood on it now, she loved this jacket.

Quiet falls over them and the safety they’ve secured becomes apparent. Fuck her jacket, she’s happy they’re all right and coherent more.

“What’re you sorry for?” Camilla asks, curiously. The man—with those growly noises that may mean he’s not just a man anymore—has a weird code of etiquette.

“For—for—I don’t know? I—just beat a man unconscious?” he says with great uncertainty as he rubs his hands together anxiously. “I don’t feel great.”

“Well you did great, He-Man,” Larissa says, patting his knee. “Saved all our asses. We need to go. My cover’s blown.”

Camilla hefts Larissa up into the air while Jack’s hands flutter nearby. She shoots him a smile that one part smug and two parts irked. “I’ve got her.” She feels at once on the verge of a breakthrough—Jack may be _super_ —and also slighted. Super powers were kind of her thing, it's not so common and Camilla lowkey delights in that.

Larissa shifts into a more comfortable position in Camilla’s arms, declaring: “I resent this.”

Camilla curbs the urge to smack a purposefully patronising kiss to her temple and gets practical. “Did we all drive here? Are we abandoning cars?”

“I did,” Larissa says, “and I can’t drive now.”

“So did I,” Jacks says, his voice low as he glances around them. “And I’d really rather not drive right now.” She doubts he could with the way his arm is bleeding.

“My car’s this way,” Camilla says. She bumps her shoulder reassuringly into Jack, tightens her hold on Larissa and leads the way.

 

* * *

 

Camilla drives them to a safe house. She uses the title deliberately when telling them where they’re headed. There’s definitely a part of her that wants to tell them what she's been up to. Its a part she almost immediately regrets when they ask for clarification because, fool that she is, she didn’t think any further than that. _Safe house_ , she says casually, like she’s some kind of spy. Like she’s that cool.

She stumbles through an explanation of how one of her clients is a very generous, if sleazy, donor and he _had_ said she could stop by his summer home anytime she liked. They don’t ask who she works for or what she does thankfully. They’re flagging all round, exhaustion at the forefront of their minds.

She passes Larissa off to Jack to prop up and they watch her dubiously as she searches for the front door key. Its hidden crudely between one of the pedestals and the nude bust that sits upon it.

Camilla tries to go for triumphant with her grin but it comes across more sheepish.

“So we’re breaking an entering,” Jack says as they enter the foyer. His voice echoes of the ridiculously tall arching ceiling. “Is this a smart idea?”

“It's done now,” Camilla says, somewhat apologetically. “Not to forget that man we abandoned in the park. Who knows how bad his injuries are or whether anyone knows he’s there.”

The blood drains from his face and Camilla is in Jack’s shoes. _She feels the adrenaline coursing through her body as she lifts the man above her head. She growls so deeply in her chest when the man doesn’t get up that it is silent. The way his pulse sputters weakly under her fingers is numbing. The relief that courses through her when she realises they’re safe is all-encompassing._

It cuts off suddenly and Jack is in front of her shaking his head minutely. “I’ve seen that man on the news. He’s not—he’s guilty of a lot of horrors.”

Camilla can’t help but pause, but push this. “You’re okay with that moral quandary?” The man could very well die and that would be on them, on Jack.

“Not at all,” Jack says, his voice clipped, “but he was likely going to kill us considering his track record and we still have immediate issues to deal with.” He glances around the open plan house sprawling out before them. “I don’t suppose you know where the first aid is kept.”

“Sorry,” Camilla says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Never been here.”

Larissa seems to drop off slightly which is not a good thing but Jack uses the opportunity to step closer. “I have questions, Camilla,” he says in rueful warning. “I can’t figure out how you’re involved in this. Or why you’re acting so casual.”

She’s tempted to say ‘but the birds!’ except she’s not sure she could sell it with his droopy baby blues on her. Camilla looks him up and down pointedly instead, “We’ll do a trade. I’ve got questions too, wolf-man.”

Jack flushes and ducks his head. Talk about a visual representation of ‘aww shucks’. “I knew you were leagues ahead of me on this.” He rolls his shoulders and smiles slightly at her. “Let’s get patched up and then we can compare notes.”

They deposit Larissa on the bathroom floor, propping her against the tub. The dickhead has a surprisingly stocked first aid kit which Camilla is very very thankful for. She patches Jack’s arm up best she can. It strangely looks like it shouldn’t have been able to gush all that blood, but then is that more strange than him throwing himself headlong into a fight with an animalistic growl?

Jack takes care of Larissa’s potential concussion. He shines a light back and forth in both of her eyes. “I used to play hockey when I was younger,” he tells her softly when he pulls away none too worried. Larissa seems to focusing on him okay. “We got knocked around a lot and if we cleaned ourselves up we could get back to playing sooner.”

“Yeah, surprisingly that doesn’t make me trust you.” She pushes herself up from her prone position, looking less dazed now she has some painkillers in her.

Jack chuckles and then frowns, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Do you want to go the hospital?”

Larissa starts to shake her head and then stills with a grimace. Camilla pretty much wants to force her after that but Larissa’s a grown woman. “No,” Larissa says, “We need to lie low.”

“Let's do it somewhere more comfortable,” Camilla says more softly than she intends to. They both turn to look at her like they’re in a soap opera and she’s announced she’s with child to gasp! _one_ of them! She doesn’t like how distanced she must make herself for their reactions to be so strong but Camilla bucks the fuck up. “We’ll get your two comfy on the couch. I’ll check the food situation and then I’ll come back and clean up here.” There’s a shocking amount of blood on the floor and she’s extremely glad Jack had the forethought to move the bathroom mat.

Jack moves to protest and she raises her hands in defense. “Hey I’m uninjured and we have shit that needs doing right now.” She gets them onto the couch with minimal complaints after that, not that Larissa doesn’t deserve to grumble after being so violently knocked around. Camilla is loathe to leave her and miss out on the fun when Larissa starts getting more and more hyperbolic to distract herself.

The summer home pantry mostly has inedible non-perishables like flour and beef stock. It also strangely has a dozen cans of tinned spaghetti. Camilla’s gonna have to do a backround check on this guy – whether he sues her or not – because he’s either harmlessly odd or has kids and that ain’t cool. There’s no doubt he’s never made eye contact with her even once, his eyes tend to rome a little lower. He’d had a very _specific_ scenario in mind when he invited her here.

She gets the bathroom cleaned easy enough. It always surprises her how easy blood is to clean up. Maybe she just has plenty of practice from her lifelong period curse but still. Blood’s supposed to be this huge taboo thing and yet it pumps free easy and wipes up even quicker.

Camilla enters the living space – minimalist and white granite all over – quiet enough that neither Jack nor Larissa notice her.

They’re talking softly about birds.

“You know when they get wet and fluff up?” Larissa says, chewing absentmindedly on her spaghetti. “And when they fly back and forth for seemingly no reason? I respect that benevolent kind of energy.”

Jack snorts softly, “I have a bird bath in my backyard and the way they wiggle around on their backs is sweet. They’re so enthusiastic.”

Wow Camilla is a fake fan. She really needs to figure out a better cover quick. No doubt they’re both onto the fact she _lied_ right to their faces. Her MO has always been denial and distraction, this is overt to an immeasurable extreme. Part of her wants to pull Jack aside and tell him she’s super now, that feels safe, but the idea of not treating Larissa equally feels unacceptable.

Larissa catches sight of her creeping and raises her eyebrows. Always so succinct that one. She gestures to the couch for Camilla to sit. It’s in the middle of them but Jack’s far up the other end and Larissa is in the armchair adjacent to it. Is she bothered by their presence because of her secrets or the fact that she’s shoulder to shoulder with _two_ ex’s?

“Sooo,” Camilla says after they eat in an awkward, barely broken, silence. “Question time?”

Jack and Larissa surprisingly look to one another first. That gives Camilla an odd feeling, like a gnawing pit in her stomach. She can’t place it for positive or negative though so she ignores it.

“You’re a superhero,” Larissa says bluntly. Bless her, Camilla had no idea how to ask.

Jack glances at Camilla with an apologetic grimace. “It's a new thing and its less ‘hero’ and more just super.”

“Yeah like you weren’t hero to birdkind long before coming super. What’ve you got?” Camilla asks. She has to sit on her hands to contain her excitement.

“Its technically called ‘canine physiology’,” he says with air quotes and a roll of his eyes, “but that doesn’t mean much.” He shifts forwards on his seat and gestures with his hands as he talks. Its surprises Camilla how comfortable he looks talking about this. Tonight’s been full of surprises and she’s not as upset as she should be about it all. She feels an oncoming upset for not feeling so disorientated or guilty but that’s a whole ‘nother thing. There’s clearly some maturity in her if she’s feeling the discomfort so maybe she’ll actually be able to apologise for her abysmal loving all those years ago.

“It's basically like…” He slows down, choosing his words carefully. “Knock-off werewolfism? Whatever canines do, I can do” —better, Camilla’s mind unhelpfully fills in— “My senses are enhanced. I’m more durable than before. I’m quicker, stronger...I can, ha, bite really hard.”

He shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. “My instincts are sharper too. And I regulate temperature much better. Oh and I don’t need a compass anymore because I have one built in?”

Larissa snorts, “Alright, supersoldier, you really hit the jackpot there didn’t you.”

“It's in the name,” he says. And Camilla curbs the urge to swear at him, _Jack of all trades_ for fucks sake. “I’m, um, hairier than before? If you want a downside.”

Camilla doesn’t need visual mind reading to clearly remember Jack’s softly curling chest hair or the sparse covering on his thick thighs and calves. She has that perfect picture memorised from when they were fucking.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a hairy boy,” Larissa says dismissively. Camilla’s not sure Jack catches the lack of intention because he goes all blushy. She’s kinda curious if he has to manscape to control it all now. _God_ playoff beards. She never did ask why he quit before college. She’s such a shit person.

Jack clears his throat and looks somewhat expectantly at Larissa even if he can’t hold eye contact. “You’re super too?” Which is fucking news to Camilla. She all but jumps from her seat and she twists around to face this accusation. Hope wars with outrage.

Larissa pulls a face at Camilla and nods once to Jack. “You think I’d go villian without being super first? I’m no basic bitch.” The fight goes right of of Camilla, she’ll tell them everything _gladly._

“The technical name would be ‘electrokinetic flight’,” Larissa says, mocking Jack’s stilted introduction. Camilla sees him grin slightly.

“What’s that?” Camilla asks eagerly, her mind picturing Larissa stalking through the trees with her palms raised in threat.

Larissa deliberately pauses before she answers. Camilla’s not sure if Larissa is pissed at her for some reason or overwrought right now, her focus is all on keeping her shields locked in place.

“You gonna tell us what your special power is?” It takes Camilla a moment for her excitement to dampen before she realises Larissa is talking to her. How many times will Larissa save her ass tonight? She’d had _no idea_ how to segue into her own powers.

Jack’s head swivels like owl catching movement of the corner of its eye. “Pardon?”

Camilla sighs heavily and clasps her hands together. “Yeah, okay, I lied to you earlier when I said I was out in the park for the birds. I was actually there under contract from my work. Which I hadn’t planned on telling you about because its all experimental and to do with super powers. Telling you where I worked would have led you to ask if I was super but since we all are it's no big!”

Jack and Larissa don’t look so sold but they aren’t as concerned as they would have been a few years ago, before they were super. She’ll take this turn of events happily.

Camilla can’t help laughing slightly. “It's funny how even with developing powers becoming more normal in the last few decades that all three of us should coincidentally make the transition.”

It hits her when Jack and Larissa only pause and smile somewhat sympathetically that they aren’t feeling the same. Jack and Larissa don’t know one another. This means nothing to them. It shocks her like a hot water shower turning cold in the dead of winter. She’d been feeling something here and they aren’t on the same page. It makes her wonder if she knows them anymore than a stranger would and vice versa. She’s sure worked hard to keep her sex life separate from every other part of herself.

There’s a lull in conversation before Jack prompts her to continue. “What’s the work of yours? Last I saw, you were a rising tennis star.”

“Yeah,” Camilla says fondly, shaking her head. “I was in a different league to everyone else. And not because going to college first stunted my skill or anything. But because it gave me so many new perspectives and it's hard to play when your head's not in the game.”

Camilla knows first hand that both Larissa and Jack struggle with that concept. Unlike her, back when she _really_ had a chance to know them, they both people watched rather than engaged. The insights it gave them always impressed her, but she always felt something of a divide from the action. She had been the extrovert to their introverts. She’d _liked_ the divide. It turns her stomach now.

“Last year I was messing about with a power enhancer but for a specific power that an acquaintance of mine had commissioned. I did some experiments on it to figure out its limitations and my friend ended up submitting a report back to the company. I got a call a couple of days later and a job interview. I hear I’m very innovative,” she says with a wink. Larissa grins broadly in response, no doubt her mind so full of working ideas she can’t help but see if Camilla could assist in any of them.

“Now I’m half on contract to test other people’s work and half have free reign to make my own projects. The former is how I ended up super,” she says with wince. “I was testing a portal gun and I think I hacked into another plane of existence? This weird liquid rushed at me and I passed out from the fumes it was giving off. Then: ta-da!”

Her jazz hands go ignored. Larissa leans forward in her seat with a fond roll of her eyes, “Ta-da what? What’s your specialty?”

“Oh,” Camilla says, here we go. Her lull drags like an anchor on the ocean floor, jarring and resistant. She can see concern creeping into their eyes. Jack throws jazz hands back her way with a straight face and it doesn’t make her feel any better but it reminds her they’re listening and _willing_ to listen. “...I visually mind read.”

As expected they both automatically lean away from her, a concerned look of alarm taking over their faces. Its a look she’s unfortunately getting used to. Camilla swoops in before they start getting any ideas.

“Hey hey look. I’m not reading your minds right now. I have no idea what you thinking and never will. Alls I’m saying is that if you’re planning on remembering a specific scene and giving yourself a play-by-play, keep away from me. If you’ve got a memory on your mind, then I’m going to see it.”

She feels suddenly like old fashioned films are starting up everywhere in the room, the bright bursting lights and the loud whirring noises bombarding her. The countdown rolls down with low blips, calling for attention. Jesus, whatever the hell they’ve got playing on their brain boxes she ain’t interested. “I can shield if I’m prepared but otherwise get a good dozen feet away from me.”

Jack nods his head slowly. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Like I said: no big.” Camilla shrugs. Only time will tell if they also consider it _no big_. She tries not to look at Larissa and hint her into taking a turn but she doubts she’s subtle.

“Yeah, I can fly by using electricity,” Larissa says nonchalantly.

“What?”

“Yeah I make lighting from my hands and it shoots me across the sky. Or like, usually the room.”

“...what?”

“Look I got to pick mine and I wanted something cool not _practical_. I don’t know what you two are going on about anyway Miss Invasive and Mr Fake Dog. You think your powers are all that?” Larissa’s top lip is sneered up but Camilla can’t tell if the irritation is real or not. She’d never had trouble reading Larissa before; she’d never made her work for it before.

Jack clears his throat. “If I plan in advance I can turn into a dog.” He falters when he gets blank stares in response, “I can’t do it often. I rarely have but if I bulk up on food over a few weeks, practice visualising it, and _really_ concentrate then, yeah, I’m a fake dog no more.”

There’s silence except for the ticking clock. Jack has a grin waiting in the wings and Camilla isn’t sure if she fucking believes him.

“What kind of dog?” Larissa says suspiciously, interest sparking in her eyes.

“Um, a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog,” he says, settling back into the couch. “It's a pretty new breed. They’re the result of a military experiment. I got bitten by a mutated one.”

“What do you do?” Larissa asks, the interrogation on. Camilla relaxes back into the couch, happy to have someone else ask where she is curious.

“I’m doing my PHD at the local university,” Jack says pointing over his shoulder like they can see the building from the secluded outskirts of the city. “I work at the ASPCA to pay the bills.”

Larissa hums in interest. “What are you writing?”

Jack perks up, _like a puppy_ , and Camilla smothers her smile in a cushion. “I’m actually writing my thesis on people developing their superpowers and how that process affects society’s view of them. There’s a whole lot of history involved and well, that’s what I really love.”

“So like chromosomal inheritance, otherworldly influence, and human error?” Larissa says with a slight grin. Camilla kicks gently at her knee and mutters ‘scientific experimentation’ into her cushion. Human error, for fucks sake, she knew what she was doing. She’s discovered a previously unknown plane of existence, she’s got accolades now!

“Ha,” Jack says, pleased. “You’re both right, exactly like that.”

“I’d read that paper,” Larissa says. She shrugs nonchalantly but Camilla totally sees her thinking over all Jack’s animal rescue stories.

“Oh,” Jacks says, blinking. A slow, hesitant smile grows on his face. “You can do that.”

Tension holds between the two of them, thick like honey and just as sweet. Camilla struggles to swallow it down. She’s fucking jealous what’s up with that?

“Is there anything we need to discuss about the animal trafficking incident?” she says, avoiding eye contact and rearranging the couch cushions.

“Ah, not from me,” Jack says, “I like to take photos of birds is all and noticed they were going missing.”

“How valiant,” Larissa says and she sounds somewhat sarcastic but the way she tilts her head forward to hide behind her fringe says otherwise. “I don’t think there’s anything much I can tell you. The shipments were coming in from some of the big name villains and they were taking the birds out of the park for illegal sale. I could tell you all the intricate details I learned but I think that’s best left for the authorities y’know?”

“No, you’re right,” Jack says. “Unless you have anything to add Camilla, I think this issue is about cleared up.”

She turns to Larissa with a finger raised. “All telecommunications were being blocked within the area correct?”

“Yeah,” Larissa nods, “Its a smuggling ring, privacy is paramount.”

“Do you know what they were using to nullify the signals? It was incredibly powerful and would be nigh undetectable if it weren’t so good at its job. I never would have noticed if the planes weren’t sticking to their flight paths and I never saw anyone leave the UFO.”

Larissa smiles, just that smallest quirk of her lips and Camilla is pretty sure she doesn’t need superpowers to know she’s being called a nerd right now. “I’ll hit you up with the goods.”

Excitement fizzles through Camilla and honestly after the adrenaline from earlier she has no idea how she’s gonna sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

No one takes the beds. They might have accepted the fact they’re now home invaders and pantry raiders, but they aren’t comfortable taking the final step to becoming the deplorable Goldilocks. For her, at least, Camilla knows after their scare she’d rather not be alone right now.

They sprawl best they can over the couch’s and Camilla wakes with a sore neck and back. If she’s thinking she’s too old to be sleeping on the couch then she’s definitely too old to be fighting fucking super villains.

Jack checks over himself and grins unapologetically when Larissa scowls at his completely healed arm. _Durable,_ Camilla hears Larissa muttering to herself, _not fucking restorative healing no_.

He tends to Larissa’s wounds quietly and efficiently. She’s doing better much to everyone’s relief. Camilla gets them all breakfast to keep herself busy. She’s not so confident being in this house in the light of day. She’s an adult now with a career and reputation, she can’t be breaking into empty buildings. This isn’t high school, or—she eyes Larissa—an intoxicating summer holiday.

Jack smiles at her when she returns and says, “I’m going to take a look at the news.”

“Sure,” Camilla says, shoveling tinned spaghetti in her mouth. It's cold but she can’t be assed to get up and heat it. She’s eager to be out of here.

Jack quickly finds a local news channel and this shits apparently front page news. The UFO unmissable even with the cloaking system in place.

 _“Local residents describe an alien ‘mothership’ like craft being carted away by government employees early this morning. The group of hikers were trespassing in the National Park when they saw the UFO landing around two AM. Neither the park authorities nor any government agencies have come forward to comment.”_ A shaking image of the night sky with pinpoints of light travelling below the treeline is played. It doesn’t look like shit to Camilla even squinting. She saw the thing landing real time and can’t even equate the images. _Her_ footage was much better quality.

Jack hums lightly. “The aperture needed adjusting to properly capture that footage.” It strikes Camilla that the time sJack had been most lively during their various sexcapades had been when he’d had a camera in hand.

“It's probably for the best that they aren’t professional photographers like you,” Camilla says cheerily and gets the shy, stuttered response from Jack she was hoping for. “And with the government cleaning up that UFO will never be heard from again.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in despite her being the one who said them. Everything’s technically fine now. No one’s after them and the issues cleared up for back to business as usual. Camilla finds herself pointedly not looking at either Jack or Larissa. Everything is back to normal and there’s no reason to see these losers again. No reason they’d want to stay in touch, she’d worked not to leave imprint. Unless they’re after ‘just sex’ again, Camilla can’t imagine anything they’d want from her.

Larissa carefully places her feet down on the floor one at at time, her eyes glued to her phone. “Sooo there’s a hit out on us now? We cost at lot of people a lot of money.”

“Fuck,” Jack says, despondently. Camilla agrees, stunned, what the hell does that even mean? A hit? They’re on death row over some fucking _birds?_

“We’re going to have to go on the run,” Larissa says and for some reason this clearly excites her. Her eyes look brighter than they have since she was attacked.

“What?” Camilla exclaims. “I don’t have time for this! What am I supposed to do? Put my entire life, that has taken _my entire life_ to develop, on hold?”

Larissa shrugs, putting her dark, sorry eyes on Camilla. “If you want to live.” Her voice deepens slightly and Camilla is thrust into the memory of Larissa doing Terminator impressions while kicking ass at flip cup. Camilla tears herself away and isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She’s also tempted to challenge Jack at tennis on the court she saw out back just to let off some steam and _win_ something. She needs to feel an upswing right now, to be in control and on a track she approves of.

Jack winces. He stands slowly, rubbing his palms on his slacks. “I’m going to call my lawyer.”

“I won’t stop you,” Larissa says, “but I’d suggest that you don’t. And I’m also gonna say wait until we’re on the move and use a pay phone.”

Camilla sighs and turns her phone off. She should probably call PR over this stint. She might very well get fired for this.

Larissa nods at Camilla’s phone and says, “You’re probably alright. They only have one potentially dead witness to identify you.” She looks emphatically at Jack and smiles in sympathy. “We left our cars, they’ll have our plates.”

“Fuuuck,” Jack says again, vibrating slightly as he throws his body into the profanity. “Let’s go to my parents? They live in Canada.”

Camilla looks to Larissa. She doesn’t have any opinion on where they go as long as its safe. The idea that their attacker could be dead, by their hand or his own, is shock enough that Camilla will focus on the here and now. Larissa seems to know what’s what, she’ll follow her gladly.

She considers Jack’s proposal with her bottom lip jutting out. “Yeah,” she says slowly, her eyes glazed in thought. “We can cross the border legally while the people after us will have to put some effort into it. Okay, yeah, I’m down.” Larissa looks at Camilla in question then and she realises it matters to Larissa that she has Camilla’s support. Good thing her opinion of Jack is top notch.

“Finally,” Camilla says as brightly as she can. “My roadtrip dreams are coming true.”

“Oh fuck off, Camilla,” Larissa says, rolling her eyes. “You’ve had your off-road, fever dream, hippy pilgrimage. This one’s serious business.”

Jack shifts on his feet, his mouth quirked as he smooths his hands over his cashmere sweater vest and fine satine slacks. “I haven’t been on a hippy pilgrimage. These clothes aren’t really appropriate for a fever dream are they? I should change.” Camilla chucks a cushion at him grinning, enjoying the idea of him stripping the serious business from his body. Larissa gives a put upon sigh but Camilla can totally see her trying not to laugh.

“You’re in good company,” Larissa says. Jack’s poor humour and bird loving has apparently given him to seal of approval. Camilla will happily second that.

To be quite fucking honest, Camilla couldn’t imagine better company. She’d always found flings somewhat removed from reality in their blissful and uninhibited light. Not to mention she’d made sure to keep sex as impersonal as possible in her youth.

If this were a fever dream, Camilla would throw caution to the wind. Their lives are on the line and she’s heavily considering the fact that she has nothing to lose along with two heartbreakingly familiar faces to daydream about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep beep leave me a comment


	2. Chapter 2

It takes a surprisingly small amount of preparation to leave for Canada. Camilla packs the straying cans of spaghetti and after a quick wash of their clothes—where they all hide about the house naked and afraid—they hit the road.

Larissa doesn’t seem too concerned about Camilla’s car or license plates being recognisable. The only people capable of connecting Camilla to the UFO sighting are her immediate superiors at work and they have a personal stake in her anonymity being maintained. Jack seems quite fretful that they’re leaving with so little but Larissa assures him that their preparation will happen on the road. The paths they’ll follow are meant to be traveled and the hulking great malls lounging along the way are meant to be shopped at.

“You’re sure we’ll be found?” Jack says as they hit the highway. He’s picked up Camilla's tennis visor off the floor and stuffed it onto his head, fluffing his ink black hair like the fur on an agitated cat. Camilla would mock him for his stylishness but it’s rather on par with his taste.

“Undoubtedly,” Larissa says, curled up in the front seat as she pours over the map in her lap. It's the first time the paper has been cracked, the map creased with crisp fold lines and sharp with the smell of printer ink. Camilla had packed her car when she first got it with general gear in case of emergency out of habit more than anything. She’d never thought she’d be caught without her phone, but not being caught by super powered bounty hunters is a fair trade for going back to basics.  

“How will they track us?” Jack asks with furrowed brows.

“Dunno,” Larissa says, tracing long thick highways that snake the country.

“But you’re sure,” Jack says, glancing out the back window. It’s early still. The only vehicles on the road beside themselves are slumbering trucks and family full minivans. Camilla’s _Chevrolet_ stands out like a puppy come wondering into a schoolyard. Maybe that’s how they’ll be caught. She presses more firmly on the gas just for safekeeping.

“You don’t hire someone unless you know they’re good at what they do,” Larissa says.

Jack quiets in the backseat and after a time pulls the cap brim low over his eyes. He settles into sleep before long. It's a restless slumber.

A family car speeds to overtake her, limbs flying akimbo in the backseat and Camilla realises she’s never done this. The quiet of the car is relaxing, comfortable. Jack snores lightly in the backseat and Larissa is immersed in the drawings she’s putting all over the map. Larissa had mentioned their pilgrimage easily before but that hadn’t been quite right. It hadn’t been a family trip or lovers getaway.

Two years ago Camilla had been in between jobs. It had become clear with loss after loss that her heart no longer belonged to tennis. She’s quit it professionally after a few short weeks of contemplation. Camilla had never been one to hang around a failing plan of action. No, her problem came afterwards, when it was time to look for another. She was impulsive to start and pragmatic to follow through in life. There is no part of her that is well thought out _before_ beginning a life changing decision. Hence why she’d gone UFO chasing in the middle of the night unbeknownst to anyone.

The world had never responded kindly to her MO. She had a degree in civil engineering that she had no real world experience in, countless dead end tennis achievements and very little idea of what she wanted in life.

Camilla had always moved to follow her tennis career. It resulted in her having few relationships outside of the tennis world. With her dedication to such a one-track lifestyle on top of her reluctance to make connection, Camilla was as rich as a Queen of the past. Her banquet table spread end to end with roasted meats and their slick shining bastings, sweet root vegetables slow baked in animals fats, and course after course to come—should she so wish. The feast was hers to devour, hers alone. The choice Camilla’s and not another person who held favour enough to sway her decision.

She’d packed what she couldn’t live without, donated the rest, and bought her way out of her lease on the way to the airport.

“Do you remember how we met?” Her voice forms in the air as softly and as insubstantial as a cloud. It is the sound of nostalgia—adaptable under ever evolving winds and heavy at times with the promise of a rainstorm.

Larissa opens her mouth to answer and pauses. Camilla can feel her artful eyes on her but she daren’t look. Mostly because she’s not sure what she’ll see, but also because she’s always lowkey nervous driving on multi-lane highways.

“Do you want to see?” Larissa asks, her voice low and curious. It strikes Camilla that she _does_. Maybe less so to see what Larissa thought and more, immeasurably more so, to see if Larissa will make her this offer. If a glimpse at her innermost thoughts is something Larissa would trust her with.

Camilla’s palms dampen with sweat, going slick and slippery on the wheel. The potential offer is a thought as unwieldy as a bouquet of a dozen roses. The sweet gift fitting easily into her grip, made especially with her in mind, but the bulk of the flowers too towering and far reaching to see beyond.

If Camilla struggled with relationships before, when people were happy to neaten and wind the slack she dropped, she’d never had a chance once she could read their thoughts. It should have eased the workload, brought friends to the same page and cut through all the bullshit blathering of family to the heart of the matter. Yet Camilla had found herself too honest to be helped. She’s told everyone she cared for as soon as her powers had been thrust upon her and they’d responded like she’d already invaded their privacy.

Her family had never meant much to her so little her changed there but she’d lost a few treasured friends as she tried to figure out her capabilities. The relationships withering and dying as Camilla closed herself off. Her friendships had become things of stilted phone calls and online correspondence; the connection cutting over time like it was the fried phone lines giving out on them.

As they say: three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. Just as surely: a secret can be kept if it never leaves the confines of a person’s skull. Camilla was a threat even to the most innocent; privacy a treasure she threatened to steal away.

“You don’t want that,” Camilla says.

“Why not?” Larissa’s voice is blithe. “Will it hurt? Will I come to regret it? Did you lie when you laid out the parametres before?”

Camilla can’t help glancing at her. The rising sun strokes up Larissa’s profiles, backlighting her in a way only stained glass windows can attempt to imitate. Rich bright colours gone soft and touchable.

“Are you seriously offering right now?” Camilla says, concern seeping into her voice. She might need to fucking pull over if Larissa is.

She gets a shrug in response. “I’m considering it. Why does that bother you so much?”

Camilla snorts, flicking the turn signal to change lanes, “what would you give to read minds right now?”

“Not much,” Larissa says after a thoughtful pause, distaste colouring her words and Camilla’s stomach drops. She should be the most attainable person to befriend by virtue of her powers—there is no miscommunication or lack of empathy in your own memories—and yet it is her powers that turn people away.

“You’re pretty reluctant to talk to me on this,” Larissa goes on. “I respect that.”

“Exactly,” Camilla says, her voice hushed. Boundaries exist for a reason.

They’d met on a cruise. One of the many sea parties Miami has drifting on her open ocean. Camilla had dressed her best, bright flashing reds and strappy black heels. She had considered practicality vs sexiness but at that time in her life, that directionless drifting, it ensured attention won out. And did it ever win out. Camilla had found herself bent double over the edge of the boat, stomach heavy and miserable. She’d gotten plenty of attention in response: lots of pitying looks and half-hearted offers of napkins and water.

Camilla had steadily hauled her way around the boat by way of the railing until she reached the secluded stern of the ship. She’d all but tripped over Larissa tucked neatly between a potted plant and a stack of chairs.

Larissa had said, “Sup,” green in the face and slick with sweat before scrambling up to vomit overboard.

Camilla had patted her back clumsily and said, “Jinx.”

They’d spent the rest of the party commiserating. Larissa invited her to an art opening the next night where they’d made fun of the exhibition and gotten increasingly drunk. Camilla remembers very vividly the hours after: the trek down to the beach, the cool sea breeze and the warmth of Larissa’s arms wrapping around her as she grumbled about the chill. It had been a great excuse to kiss her, lips champagne warmed and buzzing with quiet excitement.

They’d spent the summer together, travelling from state to state as backpackers are wont to ferret across Europe. Camilla had never asked Larissa why she had the summer free and made sure conversation never strayed from abstract thought and wishful desires.

“You’re different,” she hears. A darted glance finds Larissa peering her the tops of her sunnies, mouth pursed in thought. Always in thought, always always; everyone, everywhere, is always immersed in thought.

“I’m just super!” Camilla says in a chirrupy voice, the bitterness soaked in sugar.

Larissa sinks into her seat with a lift and lowering of her brows. “That’s fair.”

 

* * *

 

Nothing changes.

That’s not true. Nothing changes in all the ways Camilla expects. They progress across the country nearing the border every day and grow impossibly closer as they do.

Part of her wants to say this is to be expected. She’s seen _Speed_ after all. Life threatening, road related chases create strong bonds sure.  

Yet the majority of her looks over expectation and wants to say no, she should be an exception.

 _Except_ Jack pumps gas in the podunk midwest and catches sight of Camilla, feet up on the dash. It’s a bad habit she’s never tried to drop. Years back a weekend getaway had brought them together, not by design, but by way of overlapping friendship circles. The lakehouse AirBNB had been unsurprisingly miles from any stores and Jack had driven the distance, Camilla at his side, her feet on the dash. He’d enjoyed her quiet company.

She pushes the daydream away, they hadn’t known each other yet.

Larissa returns from a walk one evening with three ice creams juggled in her hands.

The cookies and cream is deposited in Camilla’s hands before she can register her surprise.

So she remembers Camilla’s favourite ice cream, what of it?

After a minor scare where they aren’t sure they’re being followed or just following a common traffic route they drive the night through to make up time. Jack pulls the car over at a minor rest stop for them to stretch their legs, Larissa vanishing into the toilets with a tired stagger. Camilla wanders to a stretch of grass with her eyes falling intermittently closed. Jack whispers her name and she catches sight of him crouched by a picnic table. Dancing in the wild grass, fireflies weave between one another – light hearted and carefree. The grin that takes over her face is much the same. Jack bumps his shoulder against hers, his face sleepily pleased.

That he had taken a rare moment alone and decided to share it with her could mean anything. Jack’s a secret show-off for starters.

Without fail, every motel they stop at Larissa passes off any spare pillows without thought. Whether she chucks them across the room at Camilla’s turned back or tucks them neatly at her side, the intention is difficult to undermine.

They’d spent countless days and nights wrapped around one another in bed. It's hardly notable that Larissa remembers how Camilla likes to sleep.

Still, it's becoming increasingly obvious that she’s in their thoughts.

She doesn’t argue it, with herself or them. When she feels the urge to turn them away she swallows it and throws a compliment or two their way for good measure. It would be hypocritical of her to shake them for something she’s doing herself.

So she’s enjoying their company, building intimate relationships and having a _damn_ good time all the while, what of it?

That is an argument she has with herself often.

A day out from the border they pull up at a roadside diner for some plan finalisations. Larissa spends half an hour on one of the disposable phones she magicked up while Jack and Camilla pretend they aren’t in over their heads for the hundredth time.

Jack jumps in when their food arrives. “—Larissa.”

“What’s up?” She drags her eyes away from the phone in the way people do when you only have half their attention and they’re already waiting for you to be done.

“Can I do anything?” Jack says, gesturing vaguely with a hand. “I was talking to my parents last night and they’d be happy—well...they’re rather urgently hoping they can help.”

“Listen, Jackie-boy,” Larissa says, crossing her arms to lean in across the table. Jack seems to imitate her without thought and despite neither of them paying her any mind Camilla does the same to amuse herself. “While I’m sure your parents have a lot of dough, we really don’t need any traceable benefactors getting all up in this.”

Jack mulls that over for a moment before says, “We know lots of lawyers.”

Larissa sits back in her seat and throws out an arm towards the miles and miles of deserted land surrounding them. “And what are they going to do for us out here?”

Jack shakes his head, his stressed frown relaxing. “Not now, later. I’m talking about planning ahead, for when you have us safe.”

“Oh,” Larissa says. She uses the handle of her knife to scratch at her wrist momentarily. “Yeah, alright thanks.”

Jack smiles, his shoulders loosening. “I’ll call them after lunch. They’re looking forward to having us.”

Larissa shoots him a fairly sarcastic thumbs up and slides out of the booth. She crams a buttered roll in her mouth and points to her phone. Within moments of their nods she disappears outside.

Jack turns his smile on Camilla, close-lipped and pleasant, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The way he looks at her is expectant, not for anything specific, but he’s clearly waiting for her to make conversation. She is the talker of the group she supposes.

“Man, I’ve barely called home,” she says, unbuttoning her jeans to let out her stomach. She probably overdid it on the bacon.

Jack hums in response, his thoughts clearly catching on something.

Camilla points the fork she was idly considering Larissa’s leftovers with at him.

“Speak,” she intones.

Jack snorts. His eyes soften and Camilla feels the familiar buzzing of memory jetting through her mind. “I don’t know anything about your home and you’re going to meet my parents.”

“Ah,” Camilla says decisively.

Jack smothers his grin in his coffee. He waits for her to continue but Camilla’s kinda hoping for him to lead the conversation. There’s a lot that’s gone unsaid between them and she’d like a little guidance, a push to start maybe.

“Do you want to talk about home?” He lifts his burner phone with a wave. “I’ve called my parents everyday since I got this thing.”

“We never talked much when we were fucking did we?” Camilla says idly.

Jack splutters of his mouthful of coffee, halfway between amused and scandalised. He glances around them despite no one being near. “We were rather...distracted.”

“Good times,” Camilla says. “There isn’t much to it. My parents never really took any interest in my interests as I got older. I spent more and more time out of the house and then I moved away for college.”

Jack seems _so_ interested and it baffles her. They could have had this conversation years ago but instead of allowing a friendship to build between them Camilla had kept things casual. It’s almost like she used to assign people aspects of her life they could have access to and from then the rest of her didn’t exist to them. Jack had been a workout buddy and Screw date – emphasis on the _screw_ and decidedly not on the _date_.

“Look, it’s pretty much like this: if I weren’t related to them then I’d never pick any of them as friends. They’re just so...passionless, y’know?”

Jack frowns slightly, his mouth working into a confused smile. “No, I hear you but I don’t get it. I’m sorry, that’s a shame?”

Camilla shrugs indifferently and pulls a silly grin, when in doubt make yourself the butt of a joke. “It's less them that I miss and more the competent social skills I should have developed growing up, y’know.”

“Ah,” Jack says. “Now that one, I do know.”

“Well you’re doing outstanding nowadays, Mister.” She throws a punch at his shoulder and he grins sheepishly. Seriously, there had been a reason Camilla had assigned Jack to positions in her life that only revolved around physical activities.

“You too,” Jack says. “You ah, you used to talk and talk all the time when we hang out and at first I was relieved. I never had to figure out what to say around you. After a while though I noticed you never said anything about yourself. Don’t get me wrong you were good company. It’s just you called our arrangement off out of the blue and I couldn’t figure out why. I realised I didn’t know you.”

Camilla rubs at her neck sheepishly, the words clicking like tumblers in a lock. She had done that. She still does sometimes. It’s a neat trick for endearing her to others while keeping them quiet and formless in her mind.

“Deflection, right?” she forces herself to say. Anything to stop herself from avoiding the issue. “I want to do it right now.”

“You do still do it on occasion,” Jack says with his newly compassionate smile, “but I’m starting to feel like I can read you mind sometimes. You’re sense of humour is _pretty_ predictable.”

“Wow okay, I _can_ read minds and I didn’t see that one coming.”

Jack huffs a laugh. “You aren’t subtle enough to read minds. Your home movie player is more fitting.”

Camilla lets free a pleased laugh. “You know I agree. Mind reading to such a finite degree really isn’t my style. Shame my family doesn’t get that.”

He pauses for a beat. “What’s this?” It's said with the beginnings of a frown. He almost looks like he’s bracing himself.

“Oh well if I thought my family and I were estranged before then I had no idea what was coming when I became super. I thought they didn’t want to know me but it turns out they just didn’t want me to know them!” It’s funny how days ago Camilla was spiralling over these memories and today she can say them so flippantly. That probably deserves some thought but today Jack’s not flinching from the topic of her powers and she wants more of that.

Jack reaches across the table and clasps her hand gently in his. She’s not really one for wanting comfort but the fact that Jack _wants_ to comfort her is doing something to her insides. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a long, affirming squeeze.

Camilla can see Larissa approaching in her peripherals and she wants to reach out with a fierce longing. Something in Camilla yearns to latch onto these two and never let go.

She won’t. She’ll be real with them this time and see what they decide.

Larissa takes her seat once more next to Camilla and her eyes are carefully turned away from their separating hands.

“So y’know that fling we had?”

In chorus Jack and Larissa say: “yeah?” before whipping around to look at one another in shock. It disrupts her pulse far more than she thought it would.

Camilla clears her throat, “yeah so, I wanted to get you all up to speed on that...”

Silence reigns until they all become steadily aware of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus, Take the Wheel’ playing in the background. The mood lightens in the way Jack widens his eyes at his food, the way Larissa rubs her fingers over her growing smile and the way Camilla can’t help but make darting eye contact with the pair of them. The song is so jarringly unfitting for the moment that it drags them all free of it like flood waters bursting through a crumbling dam.

“Dessert anyone?” Camilla says hastening to stand.

“That would be great yes—”

“—man I _need_ me some sugar.”

 

* * *

 

Crossing the border goes as smoothly as every other time Camilla has visited Canada. The atmosphere is chaotic, everyone moves frantically while looking calm and border security are unnecessarily interrogatory. Despite the blooming nerves the process is done before before they know it.

They make it across the border with a feeling akin to an overdue exhale.

Camilla notices words of hope stirring in her rebellious thoughts as they drive deeper into the country. She knows they can’t possibly be in the clear yet but everything is going to plan and she’s really not _made_ to be a fugitive. The road trip’s been fun, life changing if she’s honest – and she rarely is which, in and of itself, is a statement. It's the company that’s getting her. Camilla wants to explore these relationships further and that can’t happen until her abnormal life returns to the sedentary pace she appreciates.

Jack calls his parents not long after their arrival and it turns out they have a surprise in order for them. Larissa looks torn between annoyance and curiosity.

“I have a plan,” she mutters as they drive, per instruction, to a storage facility. “The sooner we lie low the safer we are.”

Jack is handed a key at the front desk and hesitates before opening the locked door.

He glances at Larissa sheepishly when she gives him a pointed look. “I know its probably staged but I really enjoy _Storage Wars_. There’s lots of history to the valuable items and the actual clearing of the space is therapeutic.”

Larissa smothers a smile with a shake of her head. “You think your parents have bought you an abandoned storage space to explore so your spirits stay high? Have we stumbled upon an escapist fantasy of yours?”

“You can mock me,” Jack says as he pushes the sliding door upwards. “I know you’re lowkey hoping there’s going to be art or comic books behind this.”

Larissa scoffs even as she ducks to peer under the door. Jack cups a hand over her eyes and Camilla has to dart forward to catch the falling metal. She leaves them to their wrestling and throws the storage container open.

Jack’s parents have filled the meagre space with a massive four wheel drive. The roofs almost brush against one another and the wheels are covered in thick durable rubber. With the blacked out windows and its intimidating presence in the starkly bright space Camilla is fucking sold.

There are keys and a padded envelope perched on the hood. Turns out the Zimmermann’s are not only the most understanding parents in the world but are also the most practical.

“I knew they were loaded,” Larissa whispers to Camilla as they check out the interior. “Jack is far too polished to have been raised rough.”

“Cha-ching,” Camilla says as she spots boxes of stuff piled in the boot. “And I won’t be knocking it while they’re saving my ass.”

Larissa pries open one of them to find it full of non-perishable food. “...okay fair.”

While Larissa and Camilla switch the cars around Jack calls his parents on the disposable phone they left him. Jack waves it at Larissa with an innocent face and Larissa rolls her eyes like she isn’t mildly impressed.

They end up on speaker phone at one point and Camilla finds herself meeting Jack’s parents after all these years. The conversation is warm and welcoming and Camilla can totally see where empathetic Jack comes from. Their lawyers get mentioned a lot and Camilla zones out after she hears some deals are being made on their behalf. She’s not even going to pretend to understand how the government works and she trusts Larissa and Jack to sort it out. It's all far too hush hush for her liking.

After the slight adjustment to their routine they settle once more into driving across state. Three days from now they’ll be relaxing in the Zimmermann’s posh digs. The effect it has on Jack is subtle yet rewarding. He goes from being cautiously optimistic about their chances of making it home safe to effusively optimistic. When Sheppard’s ‘Coming Home’ comes on the junky pop station Camilla forced on them all Jack turns the radio up loud enough she can feel the drums shaking through the floor. Larissa hums the song that night as she brushes her teeth. Something in Camilla clenches when she sees Jack drumming his toothbrush along on the sink with a jazzy shoulder dance to make Larissa laugh. There’s a cocktail of jealousy and longing churning in her gut and Camilla doesn’t have a clue what to do with it.

She’s quickly reminded that they have bigger problems a day out from Montreal.

The motel they’re crashing in is a cheap place with bad lighting and worse soundproofing. One of those things turns out to be a blessing, the other not so fucking much.

Jack’s head cocking to a 45° angle is all the warning they get before a fist is punched through the door. The poor lighting illuminates the gloved hand as it reaches down and unlocks the door.

Larissa throws herself in front of Camilla and Jack lunges for the door. He gets there too late to stop the intruder, but not so late that he can’t make an attack out of this situation. Camilla winces as Jack slams the door shut on the unsuspecting hand and the bent knee stepping inside. A strange ringing noise echoes through the air; then a laugh sounds.

“Nice try,” they hear, moments before the door is shoved inwards, catapulting Jack’s head into the wall. He crumples to the floor like discarded trash.

Camilla grabs the lamp by her bedside. She tips it up, letting the shade fall free and arms herself – the metal base raised high with menace.

The man who steps through the door is covered from head to toe. Only the bridge of his nose shows between his overlarge sunglasses and the bandana slashed tight across his mouth. That slither of skin shines dully under the poor lights, metallic and silver like the moon.

Larissa sends a blast of energy, sizzling and crackling faster than Camilla’s eyes can track. The lightning bolt smashes into the man’s chest, hurling him clean out the door and across the parking lot. Static threads through the air as Camilla dodges around Larissa to reach Jack. She has to close the door to get to him. Larissa catches it, gaze locked outside and tracking, refusing to let Camilla move the door as she needs.

With a frustrated breath, Camilla hauls Jack from behind the door and down below the shrouded window. It’s dark down there, she can’t see any wounds and his head lolls against her shoulder as she collapses the two of them to the floor. It scares her. They’ve been doing so fucking well; they’ve been playing it _safe_.

“He’s coming back,” Larissa says as she steps out of the front door and out of Camilla’s sight.

She sucks in a hot breath, her teeth aching from the electricity in the air. Jack falls heavily to the ground with a soft groan as she wiggles out from under him. Restorative healing, she tells herself, as she gets on her knees to peer out the window.

The villain strides towards Larissa unharmed. His shirt flakes away around the centre of his chest as Camilla watches – his skin is not skin at all but unblemished metal. She doesn’t need to read minds to ferret out an answer here: they’re fucked. Jack will be up soon enough and just in time for this dude to do whatever he pleases to them. Camilla is useless powerwise and Larissa stands alone.

She stands tall even still. Her fingers spread towards the earth and she shoots into the sky, a stream of electricity propelling her high above the opposition. Camilla gapes at the awesome sight, something like hope rising with that superhero.

Larissa soars like a shooting star into the night and blasts the villain under her in a sparking trail.

He does not flinch.

“You cannot stay up there forever,” he taunts.

Larissa electrocutes him again with vicious snarls of her teeth. She’s wobbling in the sky, already unable to hold steady and maintain the stream of power. She can’t hold the line alone.

Camilla sprints out the motel room the second Larissa backs off and kicks the back of the man’s knees. He crumples with a yell Camilla does not wait around to listen to: she runs back to the room.

Jack sits blearily under the window, fingers coated in blood Camilla fucking hadn’t noticed. He says nothing as she upends the table to find the cars keys.

“Do what you can,” Camilla says as she heads for the door, “whether that means helping us or taking care of yourself.”

A bright white stream of electricity crackles feet from the front door, the silhouette of a human in the centre. Camilla ducks needlessly and races past hi-- the light vanishes and the moment it does a fist locks around her forearm.

_She sees herself, and not. It’s her and it’s countless other kills. Her eyes are wide and fearful as he pulls her close to him. He feels her bones grinding easily beneath his steely grip. Satisfaction pours through him. This is always his favourite part._

Camilla screams as her arms in wrenched at an awkward angle and falls to her knees. The villain struggles on his back, Jack atop him and snarling. Neither can seem to land a punch. Whatever, she has something better in mind.

Somehow she finds her feet and stumbles to the car. The task at hand distracts her from the agonizing pain but its does nothing when she tries makes use of her body. He’d grabbed her left arm so it could have been worse right? And there’s a good chance it could still become worse.

Camilla lands clumsily in the driver's seat and ignites the engine. Metres from her Jack desperately holds the villain to the ground with Larissa cupping his head between her hands and blasting him. Neither are succeeding. He is made of metal, slick and shining he slides and forces himself from their meagre attacks. They keep him on the ground through sheer stubbornness. It’s not enough. He throws them off.

With a mental blessing directed towards Jack’s parents for gifting them at automatic, Camilla painstakingly reverses from the parking spot and aims the car dead-on the fight. She revs the engine and slams on the accelerator.

The car smashes into the villain and bounces off his hardened body, jolting pain – new and old – through her. He sprawls ungainly on the ground, stunned but unharmed. Camilla leans until her cheek is pressed to the window and eases the car forwards. The front wheels bump up upon his chest and somewhere lower down his body she can’t see. She cringes as she puts on the parking brake. The nose of the car is raised and there’s no disguising what she’s done.

Jack stumbles in her peripheral and Larissa flies free over head. Camilla’s eyesight blurs with tears. She’s not built for this.

Someone knocks on the window beside her and she shakes her head. After some hesitation the figure leaves her alone. She needs the moment. She needs the quiet of the car and the stillness of the air to collect herself.

There’s no touching her arm, each brush of her shirt sleeve is an onslaught of sensation. Tender bruises are beginning to stain her skin, they’re shaped like fingerprints. It’s a hell of a reminder.

Camilla staggers from the car, breathing heavily. She cannot bear her super powers some days but often, far too often, she finds her own mind is the worst of all to read.

Larissa and Jack stand over the unmasked villain. They glance briefly at her with soft commiserating droops to their lips, before focusing back on the man.

“There’s good money in killing you fuckers, that’s all there is to it,” he laughs.

Even his hair has turned hard and metallic. The gabbing flash of teeth and tongue are steel as well. His voice sounds tinny and robotic. Camilla would be fascinated if he hadn’t tried to kill them, if there weren’t a growing crowd of civilians watching them, if she couldn’t hear sirens calling in the distance.

Larissa sighs and says, “How did you find us?”

The man snorts, his hands fumbling on the bumper as he attempts to free himself. “I’m not telling you that.”

Jack bites his lip and looks to Larissa. She shrugs. “We don’t have time to interrogate him. We’ve got to go.”

Camilla takes in a slow breath. “I’ll call us a cab.”

Jack glances between the two of them before saying quietly: “Let’s pack.”

 

* * *

 

They’ve transferred over to a 24hr bus, their cash bought tickets clutched tight in hand when Jack speaks: “I don’t want my parents anymore mixed up in this. We’re going to go to our summer home.”

Camilla doesn’t respond. She doesn’t ask why he waited until they’d bought tickets for the wrong direction until announcing this and she certainly doesn’t start crying.

She lets Larissa sniff loudly and say in an overly posh tone, “oh, _another_ summer home.”

Jack shrugs lightly and sighs forlornly. “I keep thinking about the house we broke into and wondering if some riff raff have done the same to mine. It doesn’t matter, the family jewels are in the family safety deposit box and the carpets needed steam cleaning anyhow.”

Camilla feels an involuntary smile struggle against the slippery darkness of her mood and turns her head to hide it in her sleeve. That was fucked up what they just had to do but they’ll be okay.

Fuck this funk, she can cry when it’s over.

Camilla raises her head and spins around to face her friends across the aisle. “Fun fact: I don’t think this chase for our lives is bougie enough. What if we did some sightseeing along the way?”

 

* * *

 

Things calm down once more. They ease closer and closer to their destination and they do so in routine. It’s been nearly nine days since they hit the road and it seems they are all creatures of habit.

It is in these time of normalcy that Camilla notices moments of connection between Larissa and Jack.

After they’ve settled into their motel each day Camilla takes a walk to stretch her legs. When she returns she finds her companions reading quietly together. Larissa always holds the book and Jack always turns the pages.

On the days they’re too antsy to stop they turn into cheap drive-thrus. Jack buys meal deals and Larissa buys wraps. The meal’s can of coke ends up in Larissa’s hands after Jack confesses he doesn’t much like soft drink.

Camilla’s stomach does something funny the night they clean out the trash from the car and Larissa shows Jack how to crush the cans against his forehead. It’s their laughter that tug at her, flips her insides neatly like a roller coaster and leave an unsettled feeling in their wake.

The uncertainty, the _possibility_ of it all, is a hell of a thrill ride.

 

* * *

 

The Zimmermann summer home is ornate and subtle in the way only money can buy. As to be expected the bus can only take them so far and a private residence is more than too far. The building itself is gorgeous but doesn’t hold a candle to the forest it hides within. They stop on the outskirts of the local town, shove their stuff into hiking backpacks and begin the trek through the peaceful trees.

Camilla spends the journey playing a butchered game of eye spy with Larissa where they use the verse as a way to point out cool stuff and delicately surfing through Jack’s childhood memories.

She resists at first but Jack places his hand decisively on her shoulder and she can’t compete against physical contact. He apologises profusely when he realises what he’s done but Camilla _had_ needed that show of comfort.

Plus Jack was a cute, chubby kid who used to play spies by trying to watch birds and hide from them in turn which is _adorbs_.

They turn off onto the long, meandering driveway once the house comes into sight and it truly is a sight to behold. It grows larger and more arresting with each step.

Camilla whistles when they reach the fork of the circular driveway and again when Jack throws open the front door. Her jackass client with all his brazen-faced boasting hadn’t even come close with his house. Jack’s is made ever more striking by the simple fact that he never mentioned it.

Camilla runs a finger over a bright tapestry hanging elegantly in the foyer, touching the air above the piece of art with reverence. “Bro, our fling would have lasted months longer if you’d brought me here over the summers.”

There’s a pause, where her words sink in and the cruel flippancy of them burns cool and acidic in her mouth. She feels her companions projecting memories and keeps herself carefully turned away, shame the guiding force.

It’s Larissa who responds, her tone is glib but her words incapably so for all the suggestion they hold: “We’re all here now.”

Jack clears his throat before Camilla can unstiffen and shake her surprise. “I’ll show you to your rooms. You can sleep in the beds if you like but they do come with couches.”

Larissa says, “bruh,” with a smirk as they head off into the vast building; Camilla contemplative behind them.

 

* * *

 

Life stalls to a strange mix of normalcy made of then and now. The first night no one leaves their rooms. She doesn’t know about the others, but Camilla needs the bath in the en-suite like a baby needs to be cuddled. She doesn’t seen anyone before lunchtime on the second day. Their voices can clearly be heard from various locations around the home, their tones apologetic and reassuring.

They’re fielding calls from home, she realises.

Camilla considers calling her family for all of five seconds before calling her boss, HR, and PR. Priorities.

Jack comes knocking around four. He’d dressed in khakis and an ugly tank and honestly Camilla is stupid attracted to him. Not even in a sexual sense strictly – particularly not now: _khakis_ – but certainly drawn to him and his lovely, sheepish smile.

“I’ve been barbecuing, do you want to join us?” he asks, lent against her door frame.

Camilla hops up from the bed and darts out the room, dodging his aborted tackle with a laugh.

They sprint through the spotless hallways and warm air of the house, Jack overtaking her to lead out the back. The khakis ruin the curve of his ass to her delight, if that isn’t confirmation that they’re awful then nothing else will be.

Larissa is sprawled on the grass with a fucking wolf chowing down on her face. Camilla sucks in a shocked breath, throwing herself toward to BBQ for --something, the coals maybe.

Jack catches her around the waist. “Hey,” he says, “hey, that’s an actual dog.”

Larissa flails under the creatures huge mass, spitting out fur and a laugh. Camilla digs her shaking fingers into Jack’s biceps. It takes her a few attempts to catch her breath. “And that’s better than some shapeshifting super villain is it?”

Jack rubs his hand up and down her back. “She’s my puppy dog. I know she’s large and wolflike, but she’s a sweetheart.”

Larissa shoves her face into the dog’s neck, arms coming up and around to hug her and the puppy’s tail wags like a windmill.

Camilla relaxes minutely. “What’s her name?”

“Princess,” Jack says with a straight face.

Camilla slumps against Jack and his arms lock tight around her waist. It’s nice. “She lives here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, rubbing her chin back and forth atop her head. “We have a house-sitter who lives here year ‘round. She looks after Princess.”

“You rich bastard,” Camilla says, pulling herself free before getting too comfortable. She stalks over to Larissa and the monster of a puppy, her hand raised in invitation. Princess runs rings around her, yipping and slobbering with an endearingly obnoxious energy. Camilla wouldn’t mind being the ‘sitter to be honest.

Larissa seems to agree. She pulls the puppy possessively close again with a look brimming with warning. Princess wiggles her entire body until she has Larissa flattened beneath her. Her tongue decorates Larissa in the grossest of fashions.

Camilla grins, crossing her arms. “Cute.”

“Haha, yeah,” Jack says, joining her. “Don’t let her bite you, she likes to play.”

Larissa shoots him a derisive look. “Why would we ever let her do that?”

Jack says: “Ha,” and Camilla is blasted with a HD stream of Jack letting the teething Princess gnaw laxly on his arm. _Aww puppy_ , he thinks to himself.

“Is that how you got your _powers?!_ ” Camilla shrieks, all but launching herself into the air from the hilarity of it all. She hits the floor with tears in her eyes and an darling mutant of a dog barking on top of her. What a fucking dickhead!

“What?” Larissa demands. “What did you do?”

Jack groans.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is a joint affair. Jack vanishes somewhere into the house to retrieve wine, Larissa whips up a cashew chicken satay for the main course and Camilla makes the most basic of deserts: apple crumble. There’s some debate as to whether Jack knows what wines go with satay or whether he just doesn’t care; it ends with Larissa spilling hot water down her front and Camilla inhaling flour. Jack offers them all a hearty slug of beer when he returns.

She’s able to stomach the peaceful air of dinner up until the last bite of crumble. Camilla knocks back the rest of her wine and wipes her hand over her mouth. “Okay so this is lovely — Jack, your home is hands down beautiful and Larissa, I will recommend to you every restaurant I go for the rest of my life — but we can’t stay here forever. What’s the plan?”

Jack grunts and continues spooning ice cream delicately into his mouth. Camilla ignores the lack of eye contact.

Larissa purses her lips. “I know a guy.”

Camilla screws up her face. “What the hell does that mea—”

_Her hand is on the frame of a stunning, supposedly 17th century Arabian, painting and then there is a Jinn floating above her head. Larissa swears profusely._

_“Free me,” he says._

_“...alright.”_

_“Really?”_

_There is a confusing time skip then Camilla sees the Jinn hesitating in the doorway of the antique store, looking out into the real world. Larissa shrugs awkwardly and says: “Got anything I can buy?”_

_“Superpowers?” he says hopefully._

_“I have $33 on me.”_

_The Jinn shrugs. “That’ll get me to Brooklyn.”_

“What the fuck,” Camilla says, both concerned and impressed.

Larissa smirks at her and pulls free her phone.

She gives the Jinn a call and after some, once again, fleeting haggling she hangs up the phone. “It’s done.”

“What is?” Jack says, lowering his spoon.

“He magicked our identities from the minds of everyone after us,” she says.

“What? How?”

“Magic, I said that.” Larissa looks back and forth between them as they stare. “What you think I’d become a supervillian without an easy out?”

“Were you going to tell us this?” Jack asks curiously.

“Honestly I wanted to see how long you guys would go before you asked about my plans,” she says. “I expected it to be much sooner. You guys aren’t big picture people in the slightest. It’s all here and now.”

Camilla is vaguely aware of Jack dismissing her concerns with an: ‘We trust you’ while she takes stock of her reality. Of _this_ reality, this brief moment where they sit together and dine. Her life has never been so domestic, never shared or intertwined. She’s done everything she can to stop it from becoming so. Her history of relationships from platonic to romantic has been in imitation of her youth, of her lacking family. Yet here she sits without coercion or panic. In reality the idea of living this forever terrifies her, but...maybe she wants to try. Or at the very least acknowledge that for her time isn’t what makes something valuable. It’s honesty. It’s more important to her that she tell them how she feels than she have a guarantee that they’ll have this, be like this, for a long time.

“We can go home now,” Larissa says as Camilla opens her mouth.

“Right,” Jack says, “but also, I have two weeks holiday time still saved up and my Dad’s got a fully stocked wine cellar.”

Larissa rolls her eyes. “Of fucking course you have a wine cellar.

Jack toasts her. “We have a jacuzzi too,” he says and he’s sort of smiling.

Larissa scoffs. “What you think I didn’t notice the jacuzzi?”

“We don’t have bathing suits,” Camilla says, distracted.

_She’s in the cool, darkness of a lake wrapped around herself. He’s got his head under the shower stream and the gym is busy but she’s joining him. They’re kissing._

Camilla swallows. “...I mean I don’t need to be clothed to have a good time.”

“That depends,” Larissa says slowly, “on what this is.” She’s looking at Jack as much as she’s looking at Camilla.

Jack looks at once hesitant and sure.

“I want to see where this goes,” she blurts and it is with immense relief. “With clothes on. And without too, you know me.”

Larissa and Jack share an amused look. It bolsters her.

“I’m sorry I was such a fuckboy before. I--I was refusing to think about, god, _anything_ that mattered let alone talking with anyone else. I was a trying, uncommunicative piece of shit; you can say it.”

Jack and Larissa both nod and Camilla feels lighter than she has in _years_.

Larissa’s smile is playful and pleased. “There’s that tact we’re all so well known for.”

Jack bites his lip. “As long as we are talking we can live without tact, eh?”

Camilla slumps down in her seat, feeling at once deflated and elated. Honest expression is fucking exhausting.

 

* * *

 

The aging wine tastes like shit much to Larissa’s boisterous satisfaction and Jack’s easy acceptance – “the most successful DIY thing about my Dad are his jokes and he’s barely qualified for them either”. They enter the jacuzzi in various pieces of ratty clothing and they stay in the water long after their clothes get chucked away.

Camilla has a lot to say when they get their mouths on her, most of it incoherent, but they get the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a 10/10 chance Camilla goes back to work and has a nervous breakdown, but there's also a 10/10 chance she fears it's coming and talks to someone about it first.  
> also you kno they go to the farmer's market every sunday and fantasise about running off with the hot stall owners, Jack has a thing for the man with the jam ;)


End file.
